


Spin the Bottle: A Game for Two

by polly_oliver



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF
Genre: Awkward morning after, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, F/F, I claim no responsibility for my younger self's creations, Spin the Bottle, but I do still kind of ship it, especially since Ellen Page came out on Valentine's Day 2014!, old shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-08
Updated: 2010-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:52:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polly_oliver/pseuds/polly_oliver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't judge me.</p>
<p>Terribly written rps, ahoy. Completely unedited. Disclaimer: this is not a real story, don't sue me for libel.</p>
<p>Premise: I heard that Ellen Page was supposed to do an indie lesbian werewolf flick, but she got too famous after Juno to do that kind of shit. Alas! So, what if Juno and Twilight had both been flops, and KStew was also cast in the werefilm?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin the Bottle: A Game for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abcooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcooper/gifts).



> Wrote this, including the summary, in 2010. So it's been long enough that its terribleness is not a reflection on my current self. Right?
> 
> Via my old livejournal, here: http://polly-oliver.livejournal.com/23981.html
> 
> Unedited because I couldn't bear to actually read it, I'm cringing too hard. I saw the word "vulva" on the way down and I was like wow okay you tried to use that word in erotica, good try, I bet it didn't work out for you, but I can't know for sure because I'm not going to read this, nope. Also, "ladybits"? Seriously? Did I really write this, is what I'm saying here.
> 
> For abcooper because I'm a troll/she wants more femslash in the world. Technically, this qualifies, but it's awful. I'm sorry, bro. Or you're welcome. Both.

They’d been working late on the set of an indie movie about a lesbian werewolf. Kristen’s hotel was far away and she was so damn tired, so when Ellen offered to let her crash with her, she accepted gratefully. On the way there, they each bitched about their last jobs, both of which had been low budget disasters, and the difficulty of finding steady work. The Moldy Peaches played soft from the car speakers.

“Bitch, at least your movie was quirky and fun. I had to play a Mary Sue with an undead stalker.”

One corner of Ellen’s mouth quirked. “Well, okay, but you have, like, swarms of preteen fans now, right? I have…hell, I don’t even have a demographic. Nobody saw Juno.”

Kristen bit her lip. “Believe me, I can do without the Twilight fangirls. Talk about stalkers.”

Ellen shook her head, and asked, “So…what kind of music do you like, Stewart?”

“Quit acting like we’re at some British boarding school. It’s Kristen.” She fidgeted in her seat before answering. “I don’t know…a lot of stuff. Um. Sex Pistols. Lou Reed. Uh…Wolfmother.”

“Wolfmother? Very appropriate, considering.” Ellen grinned. “Though I can’t say I get it. The others I’m on board with. They’re classic. But I’m surprised. I would’ve pegged you as more of an…Avenged Sevenfold type. Or something. Hot Topic music.”

Kristen shrugged. “Not really. I mostly like my dad’s music.” There was a lull as Ellen turned into the parking lot of her motel. Kristen fumbled in the backseat for her bag. They walked inside, and up a couple of flights of stairs, bypassing the elevator. Kristen crossed her arms awkwardly as Ellen slid the card key in a few times, and got the door open on the fourth try.

“I hate these things,” she mumbled, then bowed at Kristen. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she announced grandly, holding the door open.

Kristen rolled her eyes and went in. Ellen followed.

Kristen had thought, back at the set, that she was exhausted enough just to fall asleep on Ellen’s floor, but awkwardness and a sort of second wind rubbing off from Ellen’s sudden chipperness combined to find her shrugging acquiescence at Ellen’s offer of drinks. They had a couple of beers each and finished the dregs of a bottle of vodka, washing it down with coke, at which point Ellen got a little ridiculous and suggested a game of spin the bottle.

Half an hour later, Ellen was tugging down the top of Kristen’s jeans where she lay propped up on the bed’s mussed comforter. Ellen’s fingers were cool and dry on Kristen’s skin. She half smiled nervously up over the slight rise of Kristen’s breasts, the scrunched up T-shirt. Kristen smiled crookedly back, knowing she looked a little foolish and blotchy from drinking. Taking heart from this, or perhaps permission, Ellen yanked the jeans down around Kristen’s knees and slid her striped panties out of the way. Kristen inhaled sharply at the sudden exposure, and Ellen eyes flicked upward. She grinned manically and dragged the point of her tongue delicately from the edge of the slit up to Kristen’s bellybutton, locking her eyes through lowered lashes the whole way. Heat followed the trail of wetness; ice water trembled up her spine; and Kristen slumped back off her propped elbows onto the pillows. She felt Ellen press a kiss to her bare vulva and move a hand tentatively up her thigh. Kristen clutched at Ellen’s hair in fierce approval, and Ellen’s lips moved downward.

What followed was slow but intense. Ellen’s tongue and fingers and lips were everywhere, stroking her slit, caressing her thighs, pushing inside her…. Kristen shuddered. Kristen moaned. She tingled and shook with electricity. Sparks shot from her fingertips, her nipples, climbed up her spine and filled her head with light. Ellen mouthed her clit gently and flicked her tongue across it, and Kristen lost it. She spasmed violently and blushed when she realized she was half-strangling Ellen between her legs. Self-consciously, she let go of the blankets, then pulled Ellen up for a violent kiss. Her hands tangled in Ellen’s hair; she ground against her as Ellen straddled her; she left a trail of kisses along Ellen’s neck and collarbone.

When Ellen broke for a moment to tear off her shirt, Kristen surged up and bit her on the jaw in protest. Impatient, she quickly undid Ellen’s bra and rolled her over, licking the hollow of her neck and tasting each nipple. Ellen appeared to like it very much—her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and she gripped the false headboard, the tendons on her wrists standing out. Kristen didn’t really know how to go about the next step, so she just kissed Ellen’s chest and ribs randomly while her scrambled brain searched for inspiration. In irritation, she shimmied out of the half-off jeans that tied her knees together and let them fall off the foot of the bed.

Finally, shyly, she pushed up Ellen’s plaid skirt, pulled her panties down over her knees, her sneakers, and slipped two fingers between her legs. It took her a minute to find it, embarrassingly, and Ellen giggled a bit as she prodded the wrong hole, but once she could feel inside, it was…well, it was sort of transformative. So, she thought, this is what it’s like. Followed by, What do I do now? Experimentally, she moved her fingers slowly in and out. Ellen sighed. Kristen hooked her fingers slightly in a motion she’d read about when trying (and failing) to find her G spot—Ellen’s lips formed a perfect “O” and her thighs tensed. Encouraged, Kristen kept going, and rubbed her thumb around Ellen’s rough brown curls, feeling obscurely triumphant and empowered. Ellen’s cunt—should she call it a cunt? was that offensive or sexy?—was hot and slick and tight around her fingers. Slimy, really, but Kristen was less grossed out than intrigued.

It wasn’t at all the same as masturbating. She couldn’t feel which parts were sensitive, which weren’t. She didn’t know the right rhythm. But she pressed hard, and deep, and tried adding a finger as she stroked—and judging by the moaning, Ellen was pleased. Kristen turned her head and kissed Ellen’s thigh. She whispered, “Am I doing this right?” but Ellen didn’t appear to hear her. Kristen kept going, wondering when she should stop, feeling her back start to cramp from hunching over for long minutes. Carefully, she squeezed her pinky in with the rest, laid herself on top of Ellen, and curled her fingers in tightly toward the front wall of Ellen’s, uh, ladybits. Ellen whimpered and curled herself so tightly around Kristen that she had trouble moving her arm. She subsided, though, still tangled up in Kristen’s limbs, and gazed up blurrily at her.

“Wow,” she said, a little squeakily. In response, Kristen raised an eyebrow, extracted her hand, and licked each one of her fingers clean. Ellen giggled like a maniac and hugged her tightly. Kristen reciprocated, kissing her neck, and they drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, they had to do a makeout scene through hangovers and intense awkwardness, at which they failed epically. The director yelled at them for being so flustered, and spoke to each privately about how if they were going to come over all homophobic on him, now was the worst time to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey look you got to the end. On a scale of one to ten, how nonplussed are you feeling?
> 
> (But hey, if you liked it there's no shame in that. 20 year old me kind of liked it. 20 year old me _wrote_ it. Feel free to click and/or tap the kudos button if you had fun.)


End file.
